For a moment she looked startled, but he was only cutting a slice of apple for her, which she also declined.
“You should try to eat something,” Jack urged.
“My appetite is entirely gone.” She sat there another long minute before asking, “Do you intend for us to travel all through the night?”
“Only through the evening. I have two stops planned to change teams. Then we will waylay at an inn for supper and sleep.”
Sophie gave a strong shake of her head. “I cannot believe you expect me to travel for three days across France wearing an evening gown. How obtuse can you be?”
Jack lightly ran his gaze over her. She was not dressed for a journey, although she wore a velvet cloak over her gown for warmth. But he had brought several lap blankets for the carriage.
“I had only half a day to prepare,” he explained. “I took the liberty of packing a valise for you. I’ve provided you with a traveling dress and another day gown that I thought would fit you, along with undergarments and a nightdress.”
Her cheeks colored. “How could you possibly know what would fit me?”
“I guessed your measurements.”
“Based on the figures of your numerous mistresses, no doubt.”
There was some truth to her accusation, but Jack thought it wiser to avoid confirming his past affairs. “I have a sister and cousin, remember? Kate and Skye have both contributed to my knowledge of female attire.”
“They did a poor job of educating you if you think this sort of barbarism would sway any woman to your opinion.”
Jack kept silent, thinking it best not to rile Sophie any further than he already had. In truth, he was beginning to feel a measure of remorse for abducting her. He had expected resistance but not complete defiance. Obviously he’d put too much stock in his charm and powers of persuasion.
She did not relent at either of the stops to change teams. And when they finally halted in the yard of a prosperous posting inn, she crossed her arms again and stubbornly refused to get out of the coach.
“You might attempt to cooperate,” he said dryly.
“Why ever should I?”
“Because I doubt you want to cause a spectacle.”
“I don’t care a whit about causing a spectacle—”
“In that case …” Gathering her in his arms, Jack lifted her out bodily.
Sophie sputtered in indignation while clutching at his neck to avoid being dropped. “Jack, put me down!”
“Not until I have you safely inside under lock and key.”
While Sophie ground her teeth, he carried her inside and roused the innkeeper from his bed. The elderly Frenchman raised his eyebrows but chose not to comment on the odd ways of the British Quality. Jack could tell Sophie was considering pleading for help, but she must have decided the effort would be futile.
When he requested a room and ordered their bags and supper brought up, they were shown upstairs by lantern light to a pleasantly appointed bedchamber. The innkeeper lit a lamp on the mantel and started a fire in the hearth to take the slight chill off the room, then left with a promise of swift service to follow.
Only when they were alone with the door shut did Jack finally set Sophie on her feet. Her blue eyes sparked dangerously as she faced him, but rather than speaking, she spun on her heel and stalked to the window, where she parted the curtain and stood staring out at the dark night, her back rigid.
Jack propped a shoulder against the door frame and watched her, trying to judge the extent of her anger. He had wanted Sophie to become more rebellious, but not with him.
Their bags were delivered a few moments later. Sophie ignored their presence, although she did seem grateful for the pitcher of warm water to wash with.
“I should like some privacy,” she told Jack in chill tones.
“Very well. I will step outside until supper arrives.”
“Do you mean to lock me in?”
No, he would not go so far. Sophie was right about that. The searing memories of his own captivity as a child were still painfully fresh in his mind, even two dozen years later. He wasn’t about to do the same to her, even if he had threatened it.